Lonely Heart
by liveoutloud1418
Summary: It has been two years since Eragon and Saphira left Alagaësia. The country has finally recovered from the devastation of war, and many of the Varden have created new lives for themselves in Alagaësia, and have settled into life under the High Queen, Nasuada. Eragon fosters his love for Arya as he and Saphira raise the next generation of dragon riders.
1. Daily Intrusions

She caressed her belly as the baby in her womb delivered a swift kick. "Easy, little one," she murmured. Nasuada reclined on a couch in her study, her swollen feet resting on a cushion. All around her were the scrolls, books, maps and ledgers that she used in her rule of Alagaësia. Never did she once believe that she would be queen, but she liked the responsibility.

"Hullo!" a voice said from the skrying mirror. The first time it had happened, she was startled, but now, she was used to the intrusion it caused.

"Murtagh." The relief that spread across her face was abundantly obvious to him.

"How fair you this day?" His smile still made her weak in the knees.

"Better. The little one is kicking me silly today. I can't put anything on my belly without protest!"

He laughed his rich, booming laugh. "Sounds like he is a lot like his mother, doesn't it?"

A smile spread across her face. "Or maybe his father! You always assume it is a boy. What if you're wrong?"

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "I will be more than happy no matter."

They sat in brief silence. "I miss you," she told him. "I miss not sharing a bed with you each night. I miss not sharing meals with you." She laid a hand on her swollen belly. "I miss you not talking to him, and feeling him kick."

His expression saddened. "I know, my love. I will be home soon. I promise."

She trusted her husband's words, knowing he was intending to return soon, but knew deep within that it would be quite a long time before they would be reunited.


	2. Longing

Eragon breathed hard as he ran back to the rocky crags where he and Saphira were living. He hoped his physical exertion would help clear his head. His body ached, but his heart even more so. He longed for the familiar again-Roran, Nasuada, Katrina, Ismira-and Arya. Especially Arya. His mind flickered as he felt pangs of loneliness. He had Saphira, yes, and Blödhgarm and the other elves, but not Arya. He had longed for her since he first saw her, and now, she was forever out of his reach.

"Little One," Saphira murmured in his mind. He felt the pain of her loneliness, as well. She longed for Fírnen, Arya's dragon and her soul-mate, as much as he longed for Arya. Saphira lay wrapped around her egg, protecting the unhatched dragon inside from imagined danger. The sea foam egg sparkled in the light of the noonday sun, its facets refracting the light.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be dwelling on my loneliness. I know you hurt as much as I."

"No, Little One," she soothed, "At least I have my egg. All you have is memories. I ache for you."


	3. Screams in the Night

Nasuada bolted upright, gasping for air and clutching at her belly. She bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain. _Not yet,_ she thought,_surely it isn't time_. The longer she sat, the more intense the spasms became. A small moan escaped her lips. She continued to breath. The pain pushed itself past her wall of strength and she yelled, long and loud, her voice reverberating off of the walls. As if on queue, Farica and Arya entered the chamber. They quickly set to work.

"How did you know?" Nasuada queried, confused.

"Arya heard you whimpering in your sleep," Farica replied, matter-of-factly. "The midwife is on her way." Nasuada nodded, her hands clenching the sheets.

"Nasuada," Arya said quietly, "Let me ease your pain."

Nasuada shook her head fiercely. "I endured the Trial of the Long Knives. I can endure this." As she finished her sentence, another spasm hit her. She yelled again, her back arching in pain. Just as it ended, the midwife walked in to the room.

"How is she doing?" The midwife asked Arya, washing her hands in the bowl Farica had waiting.

"Her spasms are strong and fairly close together. I think she tried to be strong for too long." Arya half-smiled at Nasuada as she spoke.

Nasuada smiled back, trying to keep her mind off of the wave of pain that was about to crest. Tears ran down her face and sweat beaded on her forehead.

"Water. I need water," Nasuada murmured, her voice raspy.

"Of course, Milady." Farica held a bowl of cool water to Nasuada's lips. She drank deeply, the cool liquid replenishing her. She hoped her resolve would hold.

"Your Majesty, when the next spasm comes, I want you to push."

Nasuada stretched her hand to Arya. "Please, my friend, stay. I need you."

Arya grasped her hand. "I would not even think of leaving. I will be here as long as you need me to be."

Nasuada yelled again and pushed down with all of her might.

"Well done, your Majesty. I can see the child's head."

Arya wiped the sweat off of Nasuada's forehead with a cool cloth. "You will get to meet your little one soon."

"Push again! That's it!"

Nasuada gritted her teeth and screamed through them. Several hours passed, and Nasuada's cries rang through the halls. Just as the light of dawn began to creep on the horizon, one last scream was heard, and a baby's cry filled the room.

"It's a boy, your Majesty!"

The tears ran uncontrollably down Nasuada's cheeks as her son was placed into her arms. The midwife continued her work as Nasuada examined her new treasure and soothed him.

"He's a beautiful child." Arya said quietly.

"Yes, he is." She ran her finger along the child's face.

"May I hold him?"

Nasuada nodded and Arya took the small bundle from her. Arya caressed his cheek and sang a short, beautiful song. Nasuada knew it was a blessing.

Nasuada smiled weakly. "Thank you." Arya nodded and handed the child back to her. Just then, the door to her chambers was thrust open and Murtagh ran in.

"Nasuada..." The raw emotion in his voice stirred new tears in Nasuada's eyes.

Arya stood from where she had been sitting on the edge of the bed. "And with that, I take my leave."

"Thank you again, Arya Dröttning"

Arya smiled one of her rare smiles, nodded, and pulled the door shut softly as she left.

Murtagh rushed to the bedside. He laid his lips on hers and stayed for the several seconds, his hands cupping her face. She breathed in his smell and relished in his touch. He pulled away, the tears steaming down his face.

"My Love. How I have missed you." He looked down at the bundle, nestled in her arms. "May I hold him? It is a boy, isn't it?" His voice was thick and heavy.

Nasuada nodded and handed the child to him. Murtagh stared down at his son and ran his hand through the boy's thick curls. "He has your hair."

"But your face."

Murtagh nodded. The baby wrapped his hand around his father's finger.

"What should we name him?" She asked, sounding exhausted.

"Ajihad. We should name him Ajihad."

Nasuada nodded. "Ajihad," she murmured.

Murtagh handed their child back to her so she could nurse. He laid down on the bed next her, cradling both of them. Nasuada relaxed for the first time since he had left. He was home.

"Please don't go again. I need you too much."

"I wouldn't dream of it, My Love."

She smiled and laid her head against his chest, listening to the deep thump of his heartbeat. Her eyelids fluttering as she fought sleep.

"Sleep..." He whispered softly in her ear, and she gave into the exhaustion that raked her entire body.


	4. Lonely Heart

Eragon poured cold water over his head. He shivered as the crystal drops ran down his spine. Even the shock of the frigid water wasn't enough to dull the pain in his heart. He pulled his shirt over his head, and plopped down on the ground next to Saphira. She hummed and nuzzled his hair, a puff of hot breath accompanying her affection. He rested his head against her neck.

"Why, Saphira?" He said aloud instead of in their minds. "Why do I hurt this badly? We've been gone from Alagaësia for almost two years. I thought the pain would dull with time, but it seems to have grown all the more. My heart yearns for everyone... For her."

Saphira pondered for a moment before replying. "You know what they say: 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder' and yet, I would have thought that you would not feel so strongly after this long."

Saphira felt his grief as he spoke. "She won't let me skry her." He let the sentence fade out, his voice breaking.

Saphira enveloped him with her wing. "I'm sorry, Little One. Maybe she does it to protect her heart as well."

He shrugged. "Maybe... I don't know."

Blödhgarm approached them, his musk preceding him. He bowed and formally greeted Eragon. It still bothered Eragon that Blödhgarm didn't consider him an equal. Yes, Blödhgarm was not a Rider, but he had been Eragon's advisor, and Eragon considered him a true friend, but Eragon completed the greeting nonetheless.

"Argetlam, the Younglings await your instruction in the courtyard."

Eragon stood and brushed the soil off of his breeches. "We're on our way."

Blödhgarm bowed and started back towards the complex. Eragon climbed onto Saphira's back and tied his legs into the saddle straps.

Saphira heaved herself off the ground, and they flew towards the courtyard.


	5. Caught Red-Handed

The brisk autumn air felt good in Roran's lungs. His chest glittered with sweat as he heaved another basket of apples onto his shoulder. He had loved harvest season ever since he was a little boy. He smiled fondly as he remembered how much he had pestered his father, thinking he was helping when he was actually getting in the way. He grew melancholy as he thought of both his father and Eragon. How he missed them both. He was going to talk to Eragon that night, but it was not the same as seeing his cousin face-to-face. As soon as he heard the childish shrieks, he smiled and surveyed the scene. Many of the villagers of Carvahall were in the orchards, harvesting apples and preserving them for the fall. Katrina stood by a huge vat of apple butter, stirring something in a bowl that rested on her pregnant belly. Ismira ran around with several other children, including Hope, Horst and Elain's daughter. Most of the children were slightly older than the girls, but none of them seemed to notice. Their son, Brigon, toddled along after his sister, eventually getting frustrated that he couldn't catch up to her and the other children. He plopped down in the grass close to his mother, and amused himself by pulling tufts of the grass out of the ground.

Roran sauntered toward them, the baskets on his shoulders weighing down his steps. When he reached the group of women, he set down his baskets and scooped up his son. The child shrieked and giggled and wrapped his arms around Roran's neck.

"Would you like to try some of the apple butter Mama is making?"

Brigon nodded eagerly and clapped his chubby hands. Odors of cinnamon and nutmeg wafted toward them, making it all the more inviting. He took a wooden spoon from the table and dipped into the pot. His theft was halted by a swift crack on his knuckles.

"Agh!" He yelled, shaking his hand back and forth. A collective chuckle came from the group of women peeling and slicing apples.

Katrina half-smiled, cocked her eyebrows, and rested her hands on her hips, a spoon in the left one.

"Ah, ah, ah, Roran!" She scolded. "It's not ready, and it is far too hot for Brigon. It would burn his mouth." Her copper hair shone in the warm afternoon sun.

"That really smarted! And you're only concerned about his mouth? What about mine? Are you not concerned about me?"

She smiled mischievously as she spoke. "Of course not. I know where it's been!" The women roared with laughter. Katrina's eyes glittered as she laughed as well. He laughed, and wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her towards him.

"I have no idea what you are implying, dear lady. I am sure my mouth would blister as easily as his."

"Budu!" Brigon cried and pointed to the pot.

Katrina shook her head. "No, Little One, that is far too hot for you." She went to the table and picked up a ceramic pot and spread some of its sweet, brown contents onto a piece of bread and handed it to him. "Here." The child clapped his tiny hands again and took the bread from Katrina.

"Dow, Papa! Dow!" Roran set his son on the ground and the boy sat down where he had been before, eagerly eating his treat.

Roran pouted at Katrina. "What about me? May I have some?"

"Maybe, but you misbehaved. Are you sure you deserve it?"

He bowed his head in mock sorrow. "I'm sorry."

"You are forgiven." She handed him a piece of the bread smeared with the apple butter. He kissed her in thanks.

"Thank you. Have you tried it?"

She nodded. "I had to be sure it was safe to eat!" He laughed. Even with Eragon gone, he had never been happier in all of his life. The woman he had loved for so long was his for the rest of their days. They had two beautiful children, with another due to arrive that winter. The Empire was no longer a threat, and they managed to rebuild most of Carvahall. He enjoyed being a leader and being trusted and respected by those around him.

Horst walked towards Roran, his hand raised in greeting.

Roran met the man in the middle of the distance that spanned between them. The man's age was starting to show. Gray streaked his beard and hair. Small wrinkles were beginning to form around his eyes and mouth, but his immense work load kept him at a peak physique.

"We've picked 80 bushels of apples, with more still to pick. We should have plenty to last us through the winter and send some to Nasuada. She loved the ones we took to her last fall."

"That's wonderful. Thank you, dear friend."

Horst shook Roran's hand and smiled broadly. Hope ran to him and he picked her up and threw her up on his shoulders. The little girl's golden curls bounced as Horst ran through the orchard. Roran followed behind them, satisfied.


End file.
